


From Me to You

by TheMayBellTree



Series: MBT's 2018 Saiouma Week Extravaganza [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Kokichi has a secret, M/M, Shuichi wants to figure out what it is, Texting, they're all adults, tinder au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 15:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15003749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMayBellTree/pseuds/TheMayBellTree
Summary: After some pressuring from his friends, Shuichi finally gets a Tinder and manages to match with Kokichi.Now if only he could figure out just what he was hiding...-Saiouma Week Day 2: Love / Hate





	From Me to You

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So apparently I'm awful at making short oneshots, so this took a LONG time and I'm not even proud of it and it's definitely not edited. Nevertheless that just might be my own perception, so let's jump right in, shall we?
> 
> EDIT: SO I'M A DUMBASS AND DIDN'T PUT THE SCENE DIVIDERS IN HERE, I APOLOGIZE TO ALL WHO READ THIS GARBAGE PRIOR. CONTINUE.
> 
> EDIT 2: FORGOT TO GIVE CREDIT FOR THE IDEA BECAUSE I'M STILL A DUMBASS. Thank DillasWrites for giving me the Tinder idea :) <3

 

 _It’ll be fun,_ they said.

 

 _You might find yourself a boyfriend,_ they said.

 

_Come on, you don’t have to use it! Let me just put it on in case you ever get the desire!_

 

_Dammit, Kaede._

 

Really, it was his own fault. He knew that anything Kaede did for his love life - no matter how good her intentions were - always ended in disaster. And for some reason, as she looked at him with those pleading, doe-like eyes, he had fallen into her trap and given her his phone.

 

So now here he was, two in the afternoon on a Friday, propping his feet vertical against his wall while scrolling through the vast confines that Tinder offered. Goddammit.

 

He was _bored,_ okay? It wasn’t his fault that today just so happened to be his day off from work - it wasn’t his fault that finals had just ended! He had to pass the time somehow!

 

So far, all the boys that he had stumbled upon in his matches tended to be macho-jocks - not quite his type, they reminded him too much of Kaito for his own taste. He’d rather not think of his best friend when picking romantic partners.

 

Once or twice he did stumble across someone his type - a bit more on the feminine side, not overly muscular like some of the options that had flashed across his screen. On one such occasion he’d stumbled across a man that was about his age, a university student like him as well, apparently he was a worker at a nearby ramen shop - that had matched all his criteria, even his physical appearance wasn’t bad, save for the fact that it looked like he set his straightening iron up to five-thousand degrees from how flat his hair was - not that Shuichi could say much, people often accused him of the same thing (and they weren’t wholly wrong). He’d had the faintest traces of eyeliner and powder in his profile picture so he was obviously secure with his masculinity. He really seemed nice, and what do you know, they matched!

 

Then Shuichi tried to start a conversation with him.

 

 **_Me:_ ** hey

 

 **_Korekiyo:_ ** Hello.

 

 **_Me:_ ** whats up

 

And at the same time as Shuichi had inquired to his state of mood, the oh-so-charming man had responded with:

 

 **_Korekiyo:_ ** You seem like a fine, beautiful example of humanity. Would it be ineloquent of me to ask for a sample?

 

Needless to say, that conversation hadn’t lasted long.

 

Shuichi shifted on his bed, bringing his feet down from the wall and stuffing them under a spare baby blue blanket he kept on hand. Maybe he should be actually productive… he had just been on Tinder all afternoon in a darkened room with his blinds drawn shut and everything. If Kaede were there at that moment, no matter how much he was using her little “matchmaking” trick, she would be chastising him to hell and back.

 

He could see her now, her hands on her hips and her cheeks puffed out like they always did when she was upset, glaring at him over her new glasses that she had invested in (vintage, she could see perfectly fine - _“it’s not a phase!”_ ) and tapping a lone finger against her hip. She’d then march over to him, growling something akin to “Shuichi, we talked about this!” while wrestling him for his phone. Then knowing her, she’d probably swipe right on all the wrong people in her quest for domination (which she’d inevitably win, Shuichi was freakishly weak - though he’d like to think training with Kaito and his girlfriend, Maki, might be remedying that - and when Kaede wasn’t slaving over piano keys she was a part-time powerlifter. Long story.)

 

With the image of her in his head, he got the sudden fear of her standing right outside his bedroom door, looking through the cracks and _judging._ She had the odd trait of appearing right after someone had been thinking about her - she often joked that she was just that personable, but he doubted that.

 

He’d check _one more profile_.

 

With a swipe left on the current macho-jock he had been forced to evaluate, he was witness to a new profile - twenty-two, he didn’t _look like a college student_ but… oh man…

 

_He was beautiful._

 

He had a baby face - the kind of face that made him look more like he was seventeen than twenty-two, yet if he were to look close enough he would see the faint eye circles underneath his striking violet eyes - _were those natural?_ He was short, at least a solid four inches shorter than Shuichi and he hadn’t even seen him in person, and so skinny and frail that it actually made Shuichi worry for his health for a brief, short second - enough to where he wanted to super like him and hope for a match if it meant he could inquire about his well being. His hair was short and black, cropped just to the base of  his neck. In the photo he was posing with a green-haired male - dyed, obviously - fingers held up in a peace sign as he stood next to… Mickey Mouse? Oh, he was at Disneyland. He _was_ a college student.

 

He looked nice enough… what about his profile?

 

The next two photos he had on display were fairly similar to the Disneyland one - in the second he was stood next to a dolphin, waist deep in crystal blue water as he stuck his tongue out at it, like the dolphin and him were good friends from a long time ago.

 

In the third... he was running a marathon? That seemed odd, he didn’t look athletic in the slightest. But sure enough he was running along the street, the number fourteen plastered on his chest, lifting a grey Yeti cup as if to prove how hard he was working. When he grinned at the camera, he widened his smile just enough as if he was let in on a secret no one else knew.

 

In the fourth and fifth photos, he had just zoomed in _very_ close on a cat and a dog respectively, to where the only way he could detect the species through the pixelated, grey and white images were by their general ear shape.

 

And in his profile bio, he had so eloquently written:

 

**_Fuck bitches, get money #yolo 4/20 - get high, buy me a drink first kthx_ **

 

Ah. Nice.

 

Kokichi Ouma, huh? He seemed… interesting.

 

So despite practically every bone telling him to just shut off his phone and turn tail, Shuichi went back to his icon, readied himself to swipe right, and-

 

_It’s a match!_

 

Shuichi let out a very, uhm, _manly_ noise, his voice heightening as he fumbled with his phone in a desperate attempt for it to not land directly on his nose. Inevitably, because he’s Shuichi, his smartphone landed glass first on the space between his nose and his right cheek with a hard thunk, falling flat on his mattress a second later.

 

Ouch.

 

Rubbing his face as tenderly as one could pent up on adrenaline, Shuichi shakily lifted his phone off of the bed, tugging his bottom lip in between his teeth as he stared at the now open chat screen, an indicator at the bottom encouraging him to say the first word. Oh boy. Here he goes.

 

 **_Me:_ ** hello?

 

He didn’t know quite what he expected. Maybe a response right away. Maybe at least a short message telling him to “fuck off” - though that might’ve been his own insecurity more than anything, he’d think about that later when he was actually in the mood for some self-loathing.

 

So he waited. Shuichi bit onto his lip, tapping his finger against the waterproof case he had recently invested in - not that he ever would need it, but he was notorious for buying things he probably wouldn’t ever need, _just in case._ One thing he had learned to quickly dislike about Tinder was that you couldn’t see when a person was typing or had read your message - two things Shuichi valued in his social apps, it really curbed his anxiety. Now he had to deal with two of his social nightmares: talking to people _and_ not knowing how they felt about his message.

 

_Maybe I shouldn’t have left a question mark? That sounds assuming, right…?_

 

Just as his mind began to delve deeper into the realm of anxiousness and a fight-or-flight mechanism began to kickstart, the doorbell rang with a sharp _ding._ Through the thin walls, Shuichi could hear his neighbor’s pitbull begin to bark. With an overpowering shout that put his to shame, he heard, “Shuichi! C’mon, we’re running late!”

 

_Running late?_

 

Ah shit. He was supposed to go watch the Incredibles 2 with Kaede today, wasn’t he? Fuck.

 

He spared a glance at his phone. No reply. Dammit. Well, he wasn’t going anywhere… hopefully. No telling if he’d even respond.

 

With that, Shuichi shut off his phone, unravelled from his comforter, and left.

 

* * *

 

 

 **_Kokichi:_ ** Whoops, I thought I deleted this app! Silly me! Blocked!

 

A couple days had passed since he had first texted Kokichi, and in all honesty he had completely forgotten about the occurrence in the first place. Between his job as a retail worker and sleep, he hadn’t had much time - for whatever reason, his fellow coworkers were _very_ dramatic, and he always happened to be caught as the mediator between them all. A couple of the girls - Miu and Tsumugi - had been especially at each other's throats for the past couple days, something about Miu destroying some of the fabric in an attempt to create her newest invention and getting away with it scot-free; he honestly had no clue.

 

So when Kokichi texted him a couple of days later and he had been revisited by that charming, childlike face, he had been confused for a moment. Truly, he was too tired to even _attempt_ to remember. But after blinking away the fog in his eyes and actually paying attention to the current situation, he had almost jumped out of his own skin, leaping up from his bed like it was suddenly on fire and then promptly sitting back down, it having been already extinguished.

 

And what do you know, he’s a cheeky ass. Maybe he shouldn’t…

 

_Screw it._

 

 **_Me:_ ** i just got this account a few days ago. you obviously liked my profile

 

 **_Kokichi:_ ** Hm? Oh, I did?

 

 **_Me:_ ** … yes

 

Already Shuichi could feel the headache threatening to form behind his eyelids, a nauseating sickness coming with it. He had been feeling below the weather the past couple days - perhaps due to stress - so maybe it wasn’t _completely_ Kokichi’s fault.

 

 **_Kokichi:_ ** Oh! Whoops, yep, you’re right! It was just a lie! Good catch, Shuichi~! <3

 

Nope. It was Kokichi’s fault. Everything in Shuichi’s being told him to just put down the phone and go take a long stroll outside, but then he realized that he hates outside - hell, this was the most non-aggressive interaction he’d had in the past few days, he’d take what he could get. Kaede, Kaito, and Maki had been fairly busy, nothing wrong with talking to a new face… _is what Kaede or Kaito would say._

 

 **_Me:_ ** a lie?

 

 **_Kokichi:_ ** Mhm! Cuz I’m, ya know, a liar~!

 

Shuichi had a feeling that he’d need a lot of Aspirin by the end of the day - maybe some Xanax if he was feeling particularly anxious. Nevertheless, as he stared at the face of this Kokichi Ouma - this self-proclaimed liar, he bit his lip, readied his thumbs, and hit send.

 

* * *

 

 

The night was quiet, the faint whistles of the stormy winds outside shaking the wind chimes near his front door. Shuichi was laid on his beige lounger, the faint tune of televised jingles serving more as an odd sort of white noise than any sort of actual entertainment. The real entertainment lied in his Tinder, talking to a mysterious young man that he had neglected to form a date with as of yet - despite that being Tinder etiquette, apparently.

 

 **_Me:_ ** and why does that matter

 

 **_Kokichi:_ ** They say the bigger the dick, the bigger the heart!

 

… he was interesting. And had strange philosophies and opinions that Shuichi often didn’t agree with. Despite that, every time he’d begin questioning his life decisions, he’d turn it around with-

 

 **_Kokichi:_ ** -but that’s just a lie! Nishi~!

 

Shuichi was stuck. He considered himself to be pretty good at solving mysteries - great, actually, he was pursuing a criminal justice degree for a reason. Yet every time he got closer to unravelling the mystery of Kokichi Ouma, every time he cut away a chip of the defenses he put up, Kokichi put on layers upon layers of new masks and faces. One day, he loved cats. The next day, he was more of a dog person and _despised_ cats. He was always thrown for a loop, always having to double - scratch that, _triple_ \- check everything he said, always had to word himself very carefully - in all honesty, it was frustrating.

 

_Yet so enrapturing._

 

Shuichi couldn’t help but wonder why Kokichi had even gotten a Tinder in the first place. He didn’t seem like the type to be open to dating, if anything he seemed more like he would go on Tinder just to troll people - in fact, that’s probably exactly what it was. Shuichi just happened to be caught in the crossfire.

 

So one day, just to confirm his theory, he’d asked.

 

 **_Me:_ ** whyd you come on here anyway? do you want to meet anyone?

 

Kokichi had taken a while to respond after that, so Shuichi had been left twiddling his thumbs for who knows how long, forced to watch the repetitive notions that primetime cable had to offer. _Maybe that was a bit too forward._

 

When he had felt a sharp vibration on his lap, he had nearly jumped for joy, unlocking his phone and eager to read Kokichi’s new message, whatever it may be - whether it may be honest or just another lie, he wanted to see what Kokichi had to offer, what he had to say that could leave him either guessing or blushing.

 

 **_Kokichi:_ ** Haven’t I already?

 

_Oh. Blushing it was._

 

 **_Kokichi:_ ** But that’s just a lie! Nishishi~! I got you _so_ good!

 

… _or guessing._

 

 **_Kokichi:_ ** … or maybe it wasn’t? <3

 

_Or both._

 

As the days drifted by, oftentimes he’d find himself sat in that same position on his lounger, white noise playing on the television while those wind chimes chimed and he talked to Kokichi about whatever, whoever.

 

 **_Kokichi:_ ** … Miu Iruma?

 

 **_Me:_ ** um yea, why?

 

 **_Kokichi:_ ** She sounds like a blonde bimbo slut.

 

 **_Me:_ ** jesus, no need to be that harsh

 

 **_Kokichi:_ ** It’s true!

 **_Me:_ ** you dont even know her!

 

 **_Me:_ ** … do you know her?

 

 **_Kokichi:_ ** … nooooooooooo

 

 **_Kokichi:_ ** So! What is this about a feud?

 

That had been his first clue. Miu Iruma. Not exactly his first choice when it came to a key witness, but it was better than nothing. What were the odds he’d be in close contact to someone that Kokichi apparently knew on the daily?

 

Miu had been stacking a few shelves when he had approached her, a cart next to her and assorted with numerous pastel fabrics and a few boxes of miscellaneous supplies. As soon as he had approached, she had let the fabrics in her hand all but drop to the floor, yelling victoriously like he was somehow coming around to bust her out of the store.

 

Needless to say, she was disappointed with the true reason for his visit.

 

“Kokichi?” she furrowed her brow, bouncing her leg impatiently like she had better things to do. “Why the fuck do you want to know about him?”

 

“It’s…” _what exactly_ could _he say? He wasn’t inquiring for Kokichi, he was inquiring for his own selfish reasons. He was_ curious. “... personal.”

 

“... personal. What a lame ass excuse.”

 

Of course _Miu_ of all people could see right through-

 

“-if you just wanna bone the little hellspawn, tell me!”

 

… scratch that. He was going to regret his life after this, wasn’t he?

 

He swallowed his pride, displayed so brightly a smile that he was sure Kokichi would be proud of it, full teeth and everything, and said: “you’re right. Sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me.”

 

“Kyahaha!” she clapped his shoulder like he was a fucking whack-a-mole, ignoring Shuichi’s grunts of pain as she laughed to herself - and maybe applauded herself - at her own clever deductions. “It’s alright! You’ll learn!”

 

He winced at a particularly hard slap. She really was oblivious to her own strength - that, or Shuichi was terribly weak. Or both. In which case, yikes. “Right. Um… anyhow…” he silently thanked every possible deity he could think of when she stopped her strikes, her fists now resting at her hips attentively. “So… Kokichi.”

 

“Oh, the little shit. So…” for an odd, single moment, Miu was completely quiet, almost startingly so. The click of her heel hitting the ground sped up, like she was running a race with herself - or dare he even try to think it, like she was anxious. Was it even possible for Miu to feel things like that?

 

What is he thinking? Of course it is, she’s human.

 

She cleared her throat, crossed her arms over her bosoms protectively, and turned her head to the side so sharply that her nose stuck straight up into the air. “Well. I haven’t seen him in two years.”

 

What.

 

_Two years?_

 

“Did you, uh… did you two have a falling out or something?” He had to tread carefully here - from the sounds of it Kokichi was fond of calling Miu a “blonde bimbo slut”, and Miu didn’t have particularly endearing nicknames for him either - they must have bad blood or some common rivalry, something of the sort, or else it wouldn’t make sense to-

 

“What? No. What are you talking about? He’s my best friend.” Miu said it so matter-of-factly, like _he_ was the idiot for misunderstanding the situation when they haven’t seen each other for two years. He could already feel the migraine beginning to form behind his brow, pulsing and quaking his brain. Dear lord.

 

“... that you haven’t seen in two years.”

 

“Yeah. He’s been busy, he’s around somewhere!”

 

“... busy? With what?”

 

“I dunno, just busy!” Miu stepped away from him nervously, her legs shaking like she was just one push away from dashing and disappearing down the hall. “W-Why are you interrogating me?  I didn’t do anything!”

 

“Miu, I’m not-”

 

“He just up and vanished one day, no one knows where he is except for that green bastard!”

 

 _Green bastard…_ oh! The one in his Tinder picture!

 

“Can you tell me what-”

 

“He used to work here! I heard he got fired because he stopped coming into work! He couldn’t help it, I bet he had a n-nervous breakdown or something - he stopped picking up my phone calls too, why’d that bitch get him over me, I didn’t do anything wrong-!”

 

… he used to work here? At his workplace? That was news to him. He had just gotten a job here fairly recently, definitely under two years ago, and Miu had been working here for a few now (somehow, as much as he hated to admit it she was _terrible_ at her job - Tsumugi was fairly justified in her hatred), so timeline-wise it made sense.

 

That’s the next target, then. This so-called “green bastard”.

 

“Alright!” he cut off Miu’s rant - really, he didn’t mean to be rude, but she was driving herself into a frenzy more than anything. “I think that’s enough. Thanks, Miu.”

 

She promptly shut up, her mouth agape as though she was barely processing his words. Just a moment later, the brightest, most blinding grin came onto her face as she puffed out her chest like she was a wrestler about to enter the ring. “W-Well, of course! I’m Miu Iruma, the greatest fucking inventor to ever live! Don’t you forget it!” … debatable, but he had heard her spiel too many times to even attempt to disagree with her at this point.

 

“... yeah. Well, my shift’s about to end, so…” he nodded towards the wall clock, about to hit half past five. “See ya.”

 

He began to walk away, the littlest of bounces in his step as he mulled over the new information. Kokichi suddenly stopped coming into work, cut off contact with Miu - and possibly even everyone he knew except this guy with green hair - with seemingly no explanation… what did it all mean? What happened to him?

 

“Hey!” Just as he was about to turn from the aisle and into the store, he heard Miu’s voice call out to him suddenly, like she had just remembered something she had wanted to talk to him about. “Tell Tsumugi to let me back into the staff room! She’s being a total cunt!”

 

… dear lord on high, help him.

 

* * *

 

 

The new-found information had sparked some sort of confidence in Shuichi - he at least knew a few things about Kokichi now, he figured that figuring out the rest shouldn’t of been too hard.

 

He had never been more wrong.

 

Around midnight the next day, just as he was lapsing into the pits of sleep-deprivation and exhaustion, he had sent a proposition to Kokichi, all tangled up in his baby blue blanket like a cocoon and on the verge of passing out any minute.

 

 **_Me:_ ** hey, so do you wanna meet up soon?

 

He’d really thought nothing of it. Especially when Kokichi had responded:

 

 **_Kokichi:_ ** Sure thing!

 

And that’s what led to Shuichi’s current predicament, biding his time staring at a condensing glass, at the little water droplets that came down from it and at his reflection that met his glare in the coke and rum. Of course Kokichi ditched him. Of _course_ he did.

 

 **_Kokichi:_ ** Meet me at this bar, I’ll send you the address!

 

Yeah. Yeah, right.

 

The bartender leant on the bar in front of him, wiping a glass out with a white towel, his brown-gold eyes twinkling with something akin to pity: his eyelids all scrunched up together and his lips tugged downwards. “... hey. Are you sure they’re-”

 

“-no.” Shuichi stared back down at his glass, at those water droplets, at that gross, sad reflection that stared back up at him like they were both in on a little secret - the secret being how utterly stupid they both were. “He’s not.”

 

He pushed away from the bar, grabbing his briefcase from the floor as he left and tossing a five-dollar bill onto the table. An untouched glass sat behind him, condensing and waiting for someone to consume it - just as Shuichi would’ve been waiting for a lost cause if he had decided to wait any longer.

 

He held the door open for a small man in a wheelchair, his mind too preoccupied to even bother saying “you’re welcome” afterwards - he was going to give Kokichi a piece of his mind.

 

For the next three “dates”, the results were the same. Often Shuichi would come home in a rage, fuming and ready to break off whatever connection he had with Kokichi. Yet every time, Kokichi was equipped with an excuse - an excuse that Shuichi _knew_ was false, yet he always stupidly gave in, like a little puppy in love.

 

_That’s not too far off._

 

Shut up, brain.

 

 **_Kokichi:_ ** Oh, you went to THAT bar? I was right next door!

 

 **_Kokichi:_ ** Soooorrrrry, I couldn’t make it, my parrot was sick!

 

 **_Kokichi:_ ** My parrot got eaten by my dog!

 

 **_Kokichi:_ ** I got shot!

 

Unbelievable. And even now, as Shuichi sat in the Amami diner just waiting for a face that was never going to show, he felt this small inkling of hope - that maybe all of Kokichi’s prior excuses were somehow true, that maybe any minute he would come in with those bright, violet eyes, open his arms up to the sky, and praise the heavens that they had finally managed to meet up at the right place.

 

_Yeah, right._

 

_He was supposed to show up thirty minutes ago._

 

That was it. He wasn’t going to try anymore. It was pointless. This entire situation was pointless. Hell, maybe he wasn’t even who he claimed to be. As much as he hated to even consider the possibility, he might be a catfish. He watched that show much more often than he was comfortable admitting, and making plans but ditching or cancelling last minute were the telltale trademarks of a catfish. But then again, that hardly explained Miu… and the pictures…

 

_What the hell? Why am I even thinking about this? It’s useless…_

 

His menu sat open in front of him, variations of Italian cuisines glaring up at him, mocking him - if Shuichi were to be particularly ludicrous, he would even argue to a random passerby that the Ossobuco was giving him the stink eye - that the carrots were looking at him funny. But he’d rather not be kicked out of an establishment of this prestige, he had better things to do. Like leave. Hell, maybe just to stick it to Kokichi he’d even order without him; it’d be his swan song, his final “screw you”. That’d do it.

 

“Hey,” at that moment, almost on cue, a waiter came up to him, a notepad in his hand and a white, fluffed hand towel over his black waist apron. His voice was silky, smooth, like he was more fit to work on the end of a sex line than taking orders at a four-star Italian restaurant. When Shuichi looked up to meet his eyes, ready to order his meal, he rested his elbows on the table, grinned, and…

 

… wait a minute…

 

“You’re… that green-haired guy,” from the depths of his mind, he swore that he heard Miu yell ‘bastard’ as if correcting him, “... from Kokichi’s photos.”

 

The man tilted his head, an almost childlike pout on his lips. Green hair spilled onto his face and Shuichi could detect just the slightest traces of mascara on his eyelashes - god, they were _luscious!_ “Uh, my name’s Rantaro. What about Kokichi?”

 

Right, of _course_ Rantaro had no clue what he was talking about - of _course_ he didn’t know. Yeah. Yeah, right. Kokichi must’ve put him up to this.

 

“Nevermind, I’m… ready to order,” muttered Shuichi, fingering the edges of his menu pages like that would somehow manage to calm him down, even when Rantaro kept _staring_ and _staring_ at him with those much too feminine green eyes. He could feel his gaze on him even when he looked distinctly away, like daggers beating into the sides of him begging for him just to _look._ “... the Ossobuco sounds nice.”

 

He didn’t hear the scratch of a pen on paper, but he did hear the click of Rantaro’s heels as he pulled out a chair from the other side of the table and sat down, resting his palms on the table like he was even _allowed_ to do that. _Was he allowed to do that?_ Shuichi still refused to look at him, but over the top of his menu he could see the fine red indentations of Rantaro’s fingers, glistening and raw like he wore rings on each of his fingers far too often to be considered wholly healthy.

 

“How do you know Kokichi?”

 

Shuichi bit his lip, rubbing his finger along the menu now, like he was hoping to find some hidden code in Braille. The plastic, smooth surface helped to calm down his beating heart - anxious over the fact that he was practically being _interrogated_ by Kokichi’s best friend - but as soon as he caught sight of Rantaro’s reddened fingers again his nausea came back, just begging him to make a beeline for the bathroom or _something_ so that he could rest his head between his knees and just _think._

 

“I… I don’t.” It wasn’t a _complete_ lie. He didn’t know Kokichi. He’d never even sat and just had a normal, decent conversation with the guy. He really _didn’t_ know him.

 

“Are you that guy he’s been talking to?” At that, Shuichi finally did look up to meet Rantaro’s eyes. The man looked completely genuine; he wasn’t looking away from Shuichi, his hands weren’t fidgeting and he wasn’t sweating at all - this man had been told about him, by _Kokichi._ That didn’t seem like something a catfish would do.

 

“... yeah. On Tinder.”

 

Rantaro clicked his tongue. “Right. Well…” he glanced around the restaurant. When Shuichi followed his gaze, he didn’t see anyone that looked even remotely similar to Kokichi. No one with short, black hair, no one with those striking violet eyes - just a trio of middle-aged men who appeared to be having some sort of meeting, a few files opened up in front of them with one of the men leading the discussion, pointing and motioning for one of the stragglers to follow along. It was seven on a Monday, of course they weren’t too busy now. Maybe that should’ve been his first clue. “... hey. How about coming back Friday? I promise you that Kokichi will come. And if you don’t believe me…” He took out a black pen from his apron, ripping off a page from his notepad and scrawling down a few digits.

 

It was his phone number.

 

Rantaro nudged the paper towards him, waving his hand to indicate for him to take it. On it, he saw his phone number, like he expected, and a small, almost invisible, writing of his name, the spacing between each of the letters odd and too stretched out yet making it far, _far_ more easy to read.

 

_One more chance, Kokichi._

 

_One more chance, and then that’s it._

 

* * *

 

 

Shuichi tapped his finger on the table - to the tune of a composition Kaede would often make him listen to before she headed to the gym back when they had lived in a co-ed dorm that he still hadn’t learned the name of but was forced to retain in his head from time to time.

 

It was useless. He wasn’t coming.

 

Rantaro walked by, an empty platter tucked under his arm and a folded napkin in the waistband of his apron. Maybe it was because of Shuichi’s stare, maybe not, but he couldn’t help but notice as Rantaro glanced between him, his pocket watch, and the door, like he was awaiting Kokichi just as anxiously as Shuichi was.

 

Rantaro practically moonwalked back to Shuichi, knelt down to his level, and whispered, “he’s still not here?”

 

Shuichi shook his head, the speed of his tapping increasing; Kaede would be so disappointed in him, she was much better at ghosting than he was. Even with that thought, he couldn’t help the dull rhythm of his heart as his adrenaline slowed down and his mind made itself up.

 

He pushed away from the table.

 

“Whatever,” he muttered, a bite lacing his every consonant. As he looked around the diner, he saw no trace of that black-haired boy with those striking violet eyes, no trace of someone of his stature, nothing - just a few older couples that still acted like they were high schoolers, spoon feeding each other and everything.

 

_Figured._

 

He stood up, nodding to Rantaro off handly as he prepared to pick his briefcase up from the floor. It doesn’t matter. He was done with Kokichi’s excuses - ha, if Kokichi was even his real name. Maybe he really should’ve called those catfish guys, the country barrier be damned.

 

Rantaro stood up with him, crossing his arms even with the platter still tucked under. That couldn’t be comfortable. Shuichi made to walk past him, a thank you and dismissal at the tip of his tongue, when a slender hand grabbed into the crook of his elbow, so quaint and tiny and warm that he didn’t trust his own heart not to burst at that exact moment, oxygenated blood running through his veins at a velocity that he couldn’t bear to think of, couldn’t bear to dream of, everything that he had said and done with Kokichi leading up to this grand, terrific moment.

 

At first, he really didn’t want to believe it. His mind tried to play it off as the hand grabbing him being Rantaro - even when he stood in front of him with his arms still crossed, the tiniest of smirks gracing his features, so all knowing that Shuichi already _knew_ the reason why he was being so smug. Still, in his heart of hearts, he tried to play it off as a magical ability Rantaro might’ve somehow had, the ability to wield multiple limbs or _something_ that justified the entire scenario.

 

Yeah, even he knew that was stupid.

 

Next, he wondered how that could be - he had searched every nook and cranny of the diner with his eyes, searching desperately for the boy that refused to show his face. No one of his hair color, no one of his height, nothing! Unless Kokichi really was a catfish, that would explain everything - especially how he had managed to be so close without Shuichi realizing.

 

That brought him onto item number three: what he had neglected to pay attention to.

 

When he had first searched around the diner, he hadn’t seen much - just those three old couples who seemed to be on a triple date, a mother and her infant child, rocking her back and forth in her arms, a small boy in a wheelchair wheeling along the diner, like he was looking for someone, a couple of staff workers, a boy and a girl who looked so similar that they might be twins, Rantaro, when he had started talking to him he was looking over his left shoulder, that could be-

 

wait.

 

That boy in the wheelchair… his hair hadn’t been the same length as the profile pictures indicated, and he hadn’t gotten a glance at his eyes but his hair was an ombre that matched Kokichi’s eyes… that wasn’t much to go off of, but…

 

_he’d seen him before. On that first date. He hadn’t paid too much attention, but..._

 

The steely grip on his elbow had never gone away, if anything it had only tightened. From the angle of his hand, it felt like he was reaching up, desperately grasping onto it. Kokichi was short, but not that short.

 

He was the biggest asshole in the world, wasn’t he?

 

His heartbeat, slowed before, only increased now - he felt his palms begin to sweat, and he’d be surprised if Kokichi didn’t feel a few trickles leaking through his jacket by now. God. He was inconsiderate _and_ sweaty. What a great first impression.

 

When he looked up to meet Rantaro’s still-smug face, a twinkle of mirth in his eye that reminded Shuichi strikingly of those magical girl animes Kokichi had recommended to him that one time, he saw him give a little flick of his hand, as if indicating for him to turn around. He couldn’t. He _couldn’t!_ It just - what if Kokichi-!

 

“Hey, Shuichi…” and Kokichi sighed his name so pleasantly and serenely, almost a whisper mimicking one that might be found at the end of a long night, that Shuichi _knew. He just knew._ This was Kokichi. It had to be Kokichi. “I don’t bite, ya know? I mean… kinda hard to.”

 

God, he was still the same.

 

With a clench of his fist, a quiet murmur of encouragement to himself, and a much overdo whisper of thanks to Rantaro, Shuichi turned and looked at Kokichi.

 

He was the same. His hair was overgrown and far longer than he expected it to be, his skin had definitely aged since the last time he had seen a photo of him and his cheekbones had sunken in and were more gaunt than he knew was wholly healthy, but he was the _same._ His eyes, those child-like violet eyes that just reeked of innocence and youth, stared up at him from a black wheelchair, and his smile was white and so bright that it was like he had gussied up just for this occasion.

 

From behind him, he heard Rantaro give a light sigh, a small chuckle that was so rich and smooth that it rivalled Kaito’s, and said, “well, I guess I’ll take my leave then.” And like that, just as he appeared that one day in this very same diner, he was gone like a ghost in the night, nothing remaining of him but their memories of him. God. He’d really have to repay him one day.

 

For right now, he had bigger fish to fry.

 

Shuichi bit his lip, tapping his thumbs together in time with the seconds, counting mentally as if that could possibly save him from this disastrous situation. Honestly, he wouldn’t hold it against him if Kokichi had come just to chew him out - he really deserved it, he had assumed Kokichi was a catfish when really…

 

“Stop looking at me like that.”

_Huh?_

 

“You’re looking at me weirdly. Stop it.” When he said those words, Kokichi’s face was so, indecipherably blank, he stared up at Shuichi without a trace of amusement, his mouth set in a straight line that honestly made Shuichi unnerved to even glance in his direction. Despite that, Kokichi’s gaze was so entrancing that Shuichi couldn’t even _try_ to look away, couldn’t even begin to figure out why he felt this way so quickly after finally meeting him.

 

“W-What do you mean?”

“You’re thinking of me differently…” he gestured to himself weakly, then his chair, and then back to himself, yet his gaze remained the same, like it wasn’t an admission of defeat but more like a challenge to disagree. “Just because of this. You’re more boring than I thought.”

 

“N-No! I just-”

“Do you want me to tell you how it happened, then? All the gritty, nasty details? Does that kind of thing _pleasure_ you, Shuichi?”

 

“That’s not at all what I was-”

 

“Oh, so you’re one of _those_ people? Seeing people in pain, so much weaker than you - that turns you on, doesn’t it? Look at your luck! You can do anything to me, Shuichi, and I won’t even have the chance to run away-!”

 

“ _Kokichi!”_ he had no idea when it happened, but at some point he must’ve leaned forward and into Kokichi’s personal space. Amber met violet, a symphony of color melding together like a chaotic hurricane, swirling and swirling and turning, and when Shuichi laid his hand on Kokichi’s he remarked on how warm it was, how utterly _human_ it was. He was human. “... Kokichi…”

 

“... shut up.”

 

“Kokichi.”

 

“ _Shut up._ ”

 

“... why? What are you so scared of?” He was close, so close that Shuichi could feel Kokichi’s small exhales of breath on his face, tickling the little facial hair he had to show for on his uppeer lip and his chin. He was so close that he could kiss him. _No. Not yet._

 

“I’m not scared of anything.” Kokichi said it so purposefully, so confidently that Shuichi _almost_ believed him. But nothing could hide the slight inclination of his heartbeat - a heartbeat he felt in the tips of his fingers to the crook of his elbow - the same elbow that Kokichi held onto just a few minutes prior.

 

“You’re lying, Kokichi.”

 

Kokichi glanced down at Shuichi’s hand on top of his own, his eyes widening just the tiniest fraction of an inch as though he had just realized what he’d gotten himself into, but the slight breach of truth was gone as quickly as it had come. He locked his eyes with Shuichi’s once more, that fake-yet-genuine smile plastered on his face like it was an old habit of his, and tried tugging his hand away so quickly and subtly that Shuichi never would’ve noticed if he hadn’t been paying special attention to his every movement, to every single nudge of his head or beat of his heart like each one might have small sliver of a chance of showing him the truth. In response, Shuichi tightened his grip on his hand, like he was afraid that even one wrong call could send Kokichi speeding away.

 

For a moment, all was silent. Shuichi could feel the stares of an elderly couple on his back and could hear those two twin workers gushing to one another in hushed voices like they were first-hand witnesses to the climax of their favorite romantic drama - ironically, one that started on Tinder. Rom-Com turned drama? Nevermind - it didn’t matter. Either way, Shuichi was starkly aware of how much of a scene they were making, any second the manager was sure to kick them out. God, wouldn’t that make for a disastrous first date (as if it already wasn’t one)?

 

Jesus christ, he probably looked like a lunatic-!

Kokichi was laughing.

 

Shuichi was shook out of his thoughts by a sharp laugh, wheezy and sickly yet still there - Kokichi took in breath after breath, the top half of his body shaking with bursts of laughter one after the other, constant and consuming and so melodic and light yet deep and masculine. A single tear trailed down his cheeks as he looked to Shuichi with a twinkle in his eyes - if he had said that Rantaro reminded him of a magical girl before then he retracted that statement, Kokichi _really_ took the cake.

 

_Is it fake?_

 

No, not even _he_ could fake this.

 

He didn’t know when it happened, but soon enough he was joining in, his shoulders rocking with laugh after laugh and sob after sob. With his hand still on his, they laughed together, even though Shuichi knew full well that if he had looked crazy before, he _absolutely_ must’ve looked batshit now. Even so, despite the frantic whisperings of a mother on the phone with her husband and a newly entered elderly couple tapping each other and pointing like they were specimens at the zoo, he couldn’t find himself caring, he had _finally met Kokichi!_

 

_Stop looking at me like that._

 

He was stupid. Of course he didn’t want pity. They had both had their decent share of fuck ups, huh?

 

Yet even so, as they rocked together at a joke neither of them quite understood, he finally understood just what he was missing.

 

_I’ll figure you out, Kokichi._

 

And as if on cue, Kokichi stated, that jovial grin still on his face and a few stray tears leaking down his cheeks, “I don’t do this often, but I’ll give you one free shot. Just one. Don’t ask anything stupid, I might just have to hit you!”

 

_Anything._

 

He could ask how he ended up in that chair. He could ask why he was so afraid of meeting him. He could ask how he and Rantaro met, what their relationship was, how old those pictures of him physically able and moving were. He could ask _anything._

 

Yet despite each one of his burning questions, he knew the truth. None of that really mattered.

 

So he asked, “will you go on a second date with me?”

 

“... huh?”

 

“Well…” Shuichi reached up to his scalp, rubbing it in tandem with the odd rhythm of Kokichi’s heart. “I know we haven’t really even started this date yet, but I really like you… so I was wondering if…”

 

Shuichi was cut off by a sudden jerk of Kokichi’s elbow, a fist flying towards his face, and just as he flinched and readied himself for the blow-

 

_Tap._

 

… Kokichi’s fist gently pushed his face to the side, like a delicate puppeteer looking over his newest doll. Shuichi paused for a moment, enraptured yet mostly confused, and turned to face Kokichi’s gleaming, mischievous gaze - a look he felt he would be seeing a lot of in the future. “What… what was that for?”

 

“I told you not to ask stupid questions! That includes ones with obvious answers!”

 

… oh. Right. Stupid. He really shouldn’t have expected anything else; he had come on a bit too strongly and then promptly burst into a laughing fit with the man he had been all but threatening, that was a bit weird wasn’t it-

 

“Of course I’ll go on another date with you.”

 

Now it was Shuichi’s turn to say “huh?”, a quirk to his brow as he met Kokichi’s permanent smile - a smile that he quirked just enough at the sides that it felt like Shuichi was supposed to match it.

 

“Gee, are you deaf? I said I will. Don’t make me regret it!”

 

And when Rantaro came back to take their orders finally, the smallest of grins gracing his face like he had been planning this all along, Shuichi knew that, no matter what happened next, no matter what secrets Kokichi was hiding or what masks he donned, he was ready to figure it out.

 

_Together._

 

They’d figure it out together.

**Author's Note:**

> So... what'd you think? Quite honestly, I think it's one of my lesser works because of how much I just wanted to finish for half of it but I guess we'll see what you all think! Tell me your thoughts, your opinions, etc. etc., it makes my world! Now to work on day 3 lol, definitely not gonna make it as long as this.
> 
> TWITTER:  
> @M_BTree


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